Oberyn Martell X Reader - Blog Posts

when you want him to choke you headcanons

note — NSFW. this bitch is kinky. obviously. lost of choking references, a little breathplay at the end there. all of the boys are willing in one way or another because pedro plays them, alright?? i believe in my heart that that man is kinky as hell. good morning and good night. happy superbowl. fuck you tom brady. big love to every one else besides tom brady <3

warnings: choking, penetrative sex, breathplay

MANDO

- is stunned

- you want him... to do what??

- excuse me??

- choke you?? like, with his hands??

- in the heat of the moment you guide his huge, bare hand to the softness of your throat

- he can feel the vibrations of your whimpers against the webbing of his hand and he almost blows his load right then and there

- the idea that he can wreck you like that gets him excited

- the first few times it gets his adrenaline pumping, but then he really starts to want to get closer to you, pull you in closer, fuck you on his lap in the cockpit while the baby naps in the pod

- he finds it interesting, all of these kinks, and never gets bored of them, but he's a simple man

- he's just glad you want to share these experiences with him and provide such a stable source of pleasure for him in his life that used to be so devoid of it

EZRA

- finds it quite hard to choke you with one hand, but willing to oblige you

- he's afraid of putting too much weight on your neck, so he refuses to do it in any position where he doesn't have much control

- but he ends up getting really into it

- he finds it so arousing, the dubious nature of it

- he likes the idea of being so in control of you, being able to control your breaths, your breathing

- he quite literally has your life in his hands, and it gets him rock hard

- he likes to control your moans, cut them off with his hand while you're riding him, pretending like you two have to be quiet

- will definitely ask you to let him do it again sometime

FRANKIE

- frankie is a little taken aback when you ask

- but you're so needy, mewling and whimpering underneath him

- he squeezes your jaw hard, and presses his mouth to it

- his husky voice reverberates against your nerves, and his lips move passionately across your skin before his hand moves to tilt your head up for better access

- it's like he can read your mind

- just the right pressure, just the right grasp, and can easily read when it starts to become uncomfortable

- he loves the way you anchor yourself to him by grabbing his wrist, pushing him in closer and pulling him back when it becomes too much

- communication is super important for him, so being able to gauge when he's getting too into it and what kinds of pressure you like are vital

- he loves the way you moan when he does it, so eventually, he's going to ask you to do it to him as well

WHISKEY

- a bit more vanilla than you'd expect from someone so forward, but is interested in this particular kink you have

- he'll trace the shell of your ear with his fingers, brush the side of your jaw, play with you lower lip, before cupping his hand lightly to your throat

- he likes to see how you fit so well in his hand, the way you gasp and shudder for him when he forces your chin up to look him in the eye

- the way his lip curls up when he realizes how smitten you are for him, the way he could tell you to do anything and you'd probably do it with the heat of his hand flush against your neck

- you have to show him how to do it properly, in order to not crush your windpipe, but he gets the hang of it swiftly enough

- is very possessive, and WILL allude to it in public

- he'll wrap his arm around your shoulders, and brush his fingers up against your neck

- he'll say you have something on your neck and go to wipe it away, his fingers splayed down the side of it

- he smiles when he sees your goosebumps, and you know you're in for it when you get home

JAVIER PEÑA

- he likes to kiss you with his hand wrapped around your neck

- to feel your heartbeat through your throat

- if it speeds up when he does it, he knows he's doing something right

- when he takes you from behind, he likes tugging on your hair, wrapping a hand securely around your throat so you know you're not going anywhere

- he really likes it, actually

- he loves the feeling of pressing you impossibly closer into him

- he likes to admire your beautiful throat, when your chest is pressed up against his and he's fucking up into you

- he'll grab your hair at the roots, and pull back on it, to wrap his fingers securely around the base of your throat, keeping you there

- his hands find every erogenous part of you they can, so to have one more spot he knows he can get you off with, that's all the more pleasure from javi

MARCUS MORENO

- he laughs mischievously when you ask him to do it

- he likes to get your blood rushing to all the hottest parts of you first

- he plants wet kisses to your neck, his nose pressing hard into your skin

- the way you heat up for him, and get so excited when he does it

- his free hand finds a way between your thighs and the other one curls around your throat

- it's great for when you're getting too loud and he's afraid you'll wake missy or alert the neighbors, even

- he loves listening to you pant heavily after you're done

- he also loves feeling you dig your nails into his back when you orgasm and his hand is wrapped around your throat

- those scratches aren't terribly difficult to hide, and the idea that you've marked him up as yours is reward enough for indulging in your requests

MARCUS PIKE

- will be the most reluctant, as nobody has ever asked this of him before

- he's scared of hurting you, but you seem to get really into it

- he's in awe of you when you push his hand harder and harder into your neck, moaning and whimpering soft and broken from underneath his grip

- he's not actually the one in charge here, but with his hand wrapped around your windpipe, her certainly feels like he is

- he doesn't want to leave bruises, and definitely checks up on you after the sex or the make out session

- you tell him that he doesn't have to worry as much, but that doesn't give him peace of mind

- it's only when you gently introduce him to the receiving end of it does he understand

- he doesn't like it as much as when you're writing and moaning underneath him, but he figures that if you like it, and he's really not hurting you, he doesn't mind you wrapping his fingers around your neck sometimes

MAX PHILLIPS

- max has always loved your neck, nipping at it, leaving hickeys, pressing his fingers into the pliable skin there

- so when you beg him to choke you, to force all the air out of your chest, to wrap his long fingers around your throat

- he doesn't need to be told twice

- he loves it so much, he starts doing it without needing to be asked

- he presses you up against a wall, or pins you to the bed, and squeezes just enough for you to just barely be able to breathe

- he fucks hard when he chokes you

- you swear you almost pass out when he does it, but he allows you to pull his hands back if he's getting too rough

- he likes to feel your hands wrapped around his throat too, mainly because he doesn't need to breathe, so seeing you fall apart on top of him, seeing your hands wrapped around such a delicate piece of him, squeezing as hard as you can as you ride out your orgasm

- he loves nothing more than orgasms, necks, and good business. and two out of three isn't bad

MAXWELL LORD

- he frames your face with his hands, thumbs tracing your cheeks, and you almost melt at his soft touch

- maxwell is usually quite eager, but gentle in the best ways

- the best part about when he chokes you and fucks you at the same time, is that he subconsciously squeezes in time with each of his thrusts

- his arm frames your head and his face is so close you yours and you just can't help trying to moan around his hand

- he loves loves loves hearing you moan, so usually he'll let up to allow them to escape your mouth

- but then he's right back on it, because he knows that the more he does it, the closer you'll get, and the louder you'll be

- his rings dig marks into your neck, but you love the cold contrast to the warmth of his fingers

OBERYN MARTELL

- will most definitely choke you if you ask him to

- he likes to have you demonstrate for him just exactly how you like it

- your breath hinges in your throat when he takes your hand in his, and presses it underneath his jaw, right above his adams apple

- and you press into his neck and his eyes narrow before he take you and pushes you down onto whatever surface is closest so he can fuck you

- he lights a fire in your core that's impossible to extinguish without him

- he likes to come up from behind you, wrap his hand around your throat, and shove his hand into your pants or up your dress or around whatever you're wearing

- and he loves to feel you push back against him when he does it

- he knows he's got you right where he wants you in that case

- his fingers flex around your throat and he tries to cover as much area at once

- he believes in allowing you to be as loud as you want, since he wants all of dorne to know how good of a lover he is

- but if his fingers are wrapped around your throat, he doesn't mind swallowing all of your moans in a kiss

PERO TOVAR

- tries to choke you out with two hands at first

- you really gotta slow him down and show him the ropes

- sometimes he gets excited about it, other times he's less enthusiastic

- but he loves pleasing you, deep down inside that cold heart of his

- which is why he obliges the request

- once he gets the hang of it, its over for you bitches

- he's up in your ear, panting and whispering dirty things, downright filthy things

- and he squeezes your neck tightly, his fingers wrapped snugly around your throat

- you swear his one hand almost wraps the entire way around, his fingers are so long

- he prefers fast and dirty sex, so this kind of kink is right up his alley

- especially because of how rough he can be with you

- when you two get close, he starts squeezing tighter and tighter, until you almost cant breathe, and your release, when he finally lets go, is one of the best orgasms you've ever had

- which is how pero accidentally discovers his breathplay kink

when you sleep with him for the first time headcanons

note—it gets a little suggestive during oberyn's part, but nothing too crazy. i use sleep here in it's purest form by the way, so enjoy! let me know if you have any ideas for the next one! me and the boys are open to suggestions ;)

MANDO

- mando has always allowed you his bunk to sleep, whenever you like

- when you stayed with him on the razor crest and watched the kid, he was always more than willing to give it up anytime you needed sleep

- he didn't sleep much anyway, and usually your sleeping schedules didn't overlap

- but boba fett's ship doesn't have much space to begin with, let alone enough space for all of the crew mates he's happened to find recently

- which mean's you and mando, having already been living together and already know each other, were sleeping together, in the same small bunk, at the same time

- he offered to sleep on the floor, or pressed up against the wall

- but you got mad at him for even suggesting such a thing

- there was more than enough space for the two of you to sleep, you argued, though there was barely enough room for one

- it was comical, trying to press up against him, and find a spot comfortable enough for the both of you to lay

- it was jarring to you when he removed a single pauldron for you to rest your head on his clothed shoulder

- you felt like you had violated him in some way, seeing him just the lightest bit more bare than usual

- though you were slightly uncomfortable from the rest of the beskar pressing up into your body, you were lulled to sleep in minutes from the sound of his steady heartbeat

EZRA

- the cots had never been a long term solution

- that you knew

- so when the morning comes around, and your cot drops your ass on the floor, you wish you gotten new sleeping arrangements the last time you were in town

- you were just wishing it had taken longer for them to fall apart the way they had

- there wasn't much on the green, in terms of furnishing markets

- the cots had been the only barrier between you and the floor, and now, there was nothing protecting you from the frigid, uninsulated ground of your broken down ship

- it was ezra who offered up the idea: put one blanket down on the floor, and use the other one to cover the both of you with

- you took a second to ponder it, thinking of any idea, any reason that could be used to save you from having to sleep next to ezra, the man who had been so warm and kind to you, but you had frozen him out, because of your ridiculous crush on him

- you offered up the idea of just disassembling the cots and using the cloths as protection from the cold

- but this wiseass pulls out the cloth from the cot and his blanket and compares the two, and there's no way the cloth is going to have any integrity making contact with the ground

- so you agree, and when nightfall comes, you're too exhausted from harvesting all day to fight with him

- he puts his blanket down as protection, and you all but collapse on top of in

- ezra does you the service of tucking you in, before climbing in next to you, and you're soothed by his warmth

- not soothed enough that you fall asleep immediately, still unnerved by the idea of sleeping so close to him, hearing him breathe, feeling him move

- but he throws his good arm over your body and pulls you into him, muttering something about the cold

- and your heart melts just a little bit as you fall asleep, pressed up against his chest

FRANKIE

- frankie had been upset for weeks after his divorce, which was to be expected

- but everything had been so stressful on him, and you were getting worried for his mental health

- he hadn't been answering calls, he'd cancelled plans with you last minute, which is something he never did, and he hadn't been doing anything for himself, just living in a rut of paperwork, sleeping, eating, and going to work

- so when he calls you up to ask you to go camping with him, you obviously say yes

- it's almost a two hour drive to the campsite, and frankie is fairly quite, which isn't usual, but you get some good music going and some good conversation going, and soon enough, you and frankie are laughing and singing your heads off on your way there

- it's getting dark when you arrive, and you make quick work of getting everything out of his car when he realizes something is off

- "oh no" he exclaims, and you fear the worst

- "what? what's wrong?"

- "I brought the small tent."

- "how small is the small tent?"

- "i brought the four-person tent, not the ten person tent."

- "are you kidding frankie? i'm sure we'll fit in a four-person—“

- "i'm telling you, it's not as big as you think it is, trust me."

- when the tent is complete, four-person is an exaggeration

- it's a four-person tent if the four-people were sardine packed and the size of children

- it's going to be just enough room for both you and frankie to lie down in with your sleeping bags

- but that's for a later time, because frankie has marshmallows to roast and lots of things to tell you after he's been ignoring you for a whole week

- he apologizes and you sit next to him at the firepit on your site, and you listen to him talk, and give him advice, and rest your head on his shoulder

- and when it's late into the night and you two go to retreat to bed, you have to squish up against his broad shoulders that seem so much broader in the small tent

- and when he wakes with nightmares of his fighting buddies and far too many sleepless nights, he pulls you close to him, and falls asleep again, until the sunlight streams through the front flap of the tent far too early in the morning

WHISKEY

- that day’s mission was harsh

- it had you spent, not only physically, but mentally as well

- as you lie awake in your bed, you realize you’re not getting to sleep tonight, whether or not you had another important mission that morning

- the hotel bed was creaky and entirely not your bed from home and the air conditioner was broken so it was freezing

- you figure there’s no better time than the present, and you’re well aware whiskey is right next door

- if he’s awake, you’ll ask him to have a drink with you, and if he’s asleep, you can just hop into bed with him

- he’s a deep sleeper anyway

- you’re careful turning the knob into his room, just in case he’s asleep, and you spot him in his bed, on his side, breathing softly, room cloaked in darkness

- you come around on his side of the bed and you whisper his name

- he stirs a little

- you debate going back to your room and just toughing it out, but he doesn’t give you the chance

- he’s up, groggy and hair tousled and in just a plain t-shirt

- “sweetheart? what are you doin’ here? what’s goin’ on?”

- you tell him you didn’t want to sleep alone tonight, and he wipes the sleep from his eyes and squints at you, using only the moonlight to help him see

- “what kind of gentleman would i be if i refused you my bed?”

- this makes you smile, and he lifts the covers for you to get in with him

- you plant your head on his shoulder and drape an arm over his chest, cozying up to him as close as possible

- his hand rests comfortably on your back, and he breathes rhythmically

- and you’re silently grateful he doesn’t ask questions, just lets you curl up into his side ands lets you fall asleep with him there

JAVIER PEÑA

- it happened in a flurry of passion and kisses, hands roaming his body and yours after a far too close dance with death

- if it had not been for his bulletproof vest, he'd be lying in a hospital or a morgue

- but he wasn't

- his body was warm and so was yours and the ride to his apartment was far too quiet for your liking and his

- it was only appropriate you accompanied him for a drink after such a great victory for the DEA, but it had taken a toll on both of you, mentally

- you more so than him, which is why you ended up drinking much more than you normally would have when you drank with javi

- he tried to laugh away the stress, complaining about his sore and bruised ribs, but the room was still tense

- emotions ran rampant through your body, and when he brings it up, tears start to pool in your eyes at the thought seeing him for the last time, in a suit, at his own funeral he wouldn't attend if he had the choice

- he sets his drink down and pulls you into his arms, holding your waist and cupping the back of your neck, stroking behind your ear as he listens to you cry softly in his shoulder

- he reassures you he's fine, nothing happened to him, and you pull away from him, grab his face, and stare into his eyes

- he smiles kindly at your own red ringed eyes, irritated from crying, as you try to memorize each streak of brown in his own

- it's too much for the both of you, and you pull him into a kiss

- his mouth is surprisingly soft compared to your own drunk passion, and as much as he'd love to take you right then and there on his couch, he knows he'd regret it if you woke up the next morning and regretted it too

- so he entertains the kiss, not that he minds, and leads you to his bedroom

- where the silk sheets and heavy comforter that smell so strongly of javier peña pull you to sleep next to him, faster than you'd like to admit

MARCUS MORENO

- missy and your daughter had always gotten along very well

- you were very familiar with marcus, and could even call yourselves friends to an extent

- your daughters were very intelligent little girls, and knew that if they got the two of you talking when you came to pick your daughter from his house, they would have at least another hour to play while you two chatted endlessly about boring adult things

- for missy's birthday party, she had wanted all of her friends over for a huge sleepover, and of course her father caved

- he couldn't say no to her no matter how much he tried

- marcus, the genius he was, figured that if the kids were all under one roof having fun, why not let the adults have fun too?

- everyone was invited

- the kids would have lots of different fun activities to choose from, from swimming, to games in the backyard, and a movie night under the stars outside

- and the adults were welcome to stay, chat, drink, and play adult card games marcus had saved for special occasions

- the night of the sleepover, a dozen children and adults were packed into his backyard, watching some new movie he had rented the missy was excited about

- but it was freezing, and you hadn't expected to be outside for so long

- marcus realizes this and he leans over quietly, so not to disturb the movie

- "are you cold?"

- "oh! no, it's okay, i'll be fine—“ you try to excuse yourself, but he gets up without a word, and returns with a sweatshirt of his

- it fits snugly over your head, and completely eliminated the chill in your bones

- it doesn't take long for your eyes to start getting heavy, and soon enough, you're passed out on marcus' shoulder

- "what if we camp out here for the night?" he suggests, and the kids are more than excited

- the adults know what he's up to

- but they let him anyway

- it'll be great to tease him about later, and besides, you guys are adorable together

MARCUS PIKE

- working together with marcus was always a joy

- he was always very respectful and funny

- you knew he had his heart broken more than once in the past, so even though you dropped hints that you'd want something more with marcus, you let him take it at his own pace

- when you dropped by his place that night, with important new documents you had received right before you left work and chinese food, you're ecstatic when he lets you in

- you spend hours pouring over the documents, making sure every single detail was covered and examined, when you realize how tired you are, and how loud the rain is coming down outside his window

- "it's getting really late. i should leave," you say, but marcus stops you

- "you could always, y'know, stay the night if you wanted. i'd let you have my bed."

- you smiled at him, but politely decline, as you wouldn't want to kick him out of his bed, but you yawn again

- "look, you're exhausted, and it's pouring" he points out, "you know most accidents happen by people falling asleep behind the wheel when it's raining?"

- you laugh at him

- "you just made that up,"

- "i did, but you should stay. if you don't want to i totally understand, but you'd be missing out. my bed is really comfortable."

- "is that why you're always late to work?" you quip, and close the files

- he gasps in mock shock

- "that was one time, and my alarm didn't go off," he claims, smiling at you

- he lends you a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and you pretend to not see a slight blush on his face when you walk out into his bedroom with them on

- marcus was right when he said his bed was really comfortable

- somehow, in the middle of the night, you two find each other, his face pressed into your shoulder, your arms wrapped around him, and the rain comes down even harder

MAX PHILLIPS

- "i just need some space from him, is all."

- that's all you had to tell him for max phillips to be on your side, rubbing your shoulder and telling you that all men suck anyway, you didn't need that jerk of a boyfriend to be happy

- well, now ex-boyfriend

- of course he had ulterior motives, and you knew this, but you didn’t care

- your heart wanted someone to watch movies with and eat a pint of ice cream out of the tub with you, and if max was the one who would do that, you’d settle with him for the night

- the way he pulled you into his arms, and pressed his body up against yours, was more than comforting

- he made funny jokes, tried tickling you, anything he could think of to get you to smile for him

- and for the most part, you did

- you were sick of your ex bringing the mood down the way he did, no matter how much you missed him

- the movie has gotten boring a long time ago, but you listened to max’s breathing, and felt his chest rise and fall behind you, and it was enough to lull you to sleep

- and he would’ve woken you up, to take you to his bed, but he was scared you’d leave to go home if he did

- so he took his couch throw, pulled it over the two of you, turned off the television, and settled back as you got comfortable on his chest

- this was a side of max phillips you’d never seen before, and you didn’t expect to see any time soon

- so you relished in it, and let sleep pull you in

MAXWELL LORD

- his head aches, and his eye is still bleeding on the plane back to washington d.c.

- the ride back is silent, save for the rumbling of the engine

- he rests his head against the wall of the airplane for most of the ride there, and you take comfort in knowing while he’s asleep, he’s not in pain

- when he starts getting restless, having what you think is a nightmare, you start holding his hand, stroking your thumb up and down his soft skin

- it takes him a minute, but he calms down, and you don’t let go of his hand

- with nothing to do but watch him sleep, you decide taking a nap too would be your best option

- which is when the plane hits a particularly rough patch of turbulence

- he bounces awake, nervous and alert, and you tell him it’s just the plane, everything’s fine

- when you pull him into your shoulder, he takes the opportunity to fall back asleep

- you can feel the tension in his neck just by having him rest his head on your shoulder

- you keep a firm grip on his hand, when your own eyes start to get heavy

- your head rests on his, and the rest of the ride there is smooth and painless

OBERYN MARTELL

- he had been pursuing you for quite some time

- as the second son of a king, he was more than accustomed to people saying yes to appease him

- he was forward with you, and you were forward back with him, and he liked that

- it was your words that told him you weren't looking for anything long term, that if he were to pleasure you, and you him, he would be nothing more than a simple one night stand

- boy did he prove you wrong

- your legs were so weak afterward, you couldn't bare to get up

- he took incredibly good care of you, squeezing your sore thighs and rubbing your aching muscles, pressing kisses up and down your back, brushing the hair out of your face

- it only increased your attraction to him when he brought in more people, caring for them and having them care for you, and by the time you had finished, you felt as though you couldn't physically go another round that night

- he purred in your ear that every night with him would be a night like this, and you whined back, making him grin and capture your mouth in a passionate kiss

- you didn't mean to fall sleep with him, but all the nibbling bites at your ear and the serotonin coursing through your veins had you spent for the night

- he let you sleep, and even stayed for a while before being summoned for an important meeting

- you made a mental note that eventually, you two would need to do that again, because you slept like a baby the whole night through

PERO TOVAR

- it's below freezing when you settle down for sleep that night

- no matter how much wind the tent tried to keep out, it just wasn't enough

- you're bundled up in all the clothes you had brought with you, the only blanket that could be spared, anything that could try to keep you warm, but nothing’s working

- the cold just bleeds through the blanket and your clothes, into your legs and chest and bones so that you can’t fall asleep if you tried

- you figure the only way you’ll be able to get any rest to be ready for the next day, is to go find a warmer place to sleep

- if the fire’s still going, you’ll rest there

- you shiver as you pick up your things, but your interrupted by tovar, who comes in with a thick fur blanket wrapped around his shoulders

- “where are you going?”

- “i was just going to sleep next to the fire,” you say, trying to keep the chill out of your voice

- “it’s going to be cold tonight. lay down.” he instructs, and you oblige

- he lays the blanket down over you and climbs underneath it next to you, so that your shoulders touch and watch him for a second before he turns over and tries to go to sleep without a word

- you pull the blanket up to your shoulders and you feel ten times warmer already, but it’s the heat from tovar that really entices you

- so you push back against him, your back against his, and fall asleep with the warmth of his muscles against yours

when he’s sick headcanons

note — can you tell i was in a francisco morales mood when i wrote this? also, i’m incredibly soft. i just wanna hold them :’( also also send me your  own headcanons!! i wanna hear ‘em!! big love <3 - nat

MANDO

- he doesn’t know how he survived all those bouts of sickness alone when you step in to help him for the first time

- his body aches, and not the usual after-bounty-capture either

- his head is foggy, he can feel the sweat in his helmet, and his breathing is hard

- he can’t tell if it’s coming through the modulator, but when you bring soup up to the cockpit for him, he knows you know

- he takes it gratefully, knowing that if there was nobody else here he would have just gone to bed to sleep it off, dinner vetoed for the night

- your cold fingers wrap around the back of his neck, moving his cape as you do so, and he melts into you

- he doesn’t know that he lets out the smallest whimper when you do this, and it makes you want to tear off his helmet, pull him into your arms, and hold him until he’s better

- but you can’t, so you settle for a hand on his neck, and the tilt of a helmet when he drinks the soup in front of you, as requested

- he definitely has a fever, and maker knows what else

- so you tell him to get some rest, that you’d watch the ship and get him if anything went wrong

- you supervise him down the ladder, just in case, which he finds funny and sweet

- you wish you could squish into his bunk with him, but you don’t want to invade on his personal space, especially while he’s hot and sick

- you you settle into the cockpit, the ship on cruise control, and you check on him every once in a while, keeping grogu occupied and quiet while he gets some well deserved rest

EZRA

- you knew he would get it

- right after you recovered from your illness, he started displaying symptoms of the same one you had just gotten over

- shortness of breath, fever, aches, lethargy

- he had taken such good care of you, so it was only fair that you’d do the same in return

- resources were sparse and quarters were cramped on the green, but you did what you could to make him as comfortable as possible

- his feverish back was pressed up against your chest in a cot designed for one after he’d stripped down to his underwear to avoid overheating

- he really enjoyed you being the big spoon sometimes, and now was one of those times

- when he got too hot from your shared body heat though, you would sit on the floor next to the cot and stroke right behind his ear to get him to fall asleep

- you made sure he ate as much as he could keep down, and you gave him all the fluids you could spare for his speedy recovery

- it broke your heart to see your usually verbose boy so quiet and in pain

- he muttered fever nonsense to no one and whimpered in his sleep

- you moved your cot directly next to his in order to keep a close eye on him

- but you knew that with time he would heal, and that as soon as he started talking to you again he was getting better

FRANKIE

- he sweats through the sheets next to you in the early hours of the night

- you’re the one who wakes up first, and you honestly thought one of you had wet the bed because of how much liquid there was

- but you realize that it’s frankie, back drenched and sweating out whatever flu he had acquired from whoever he had gotten it from

- you wake him from what seemed to be a not great dream anyway, and when he realizes what happened, he apologizes, groggy from sleep and illness

- “no, no! i’m not mad, frankie, you just can’t sleep in this sweetheart. you’ll get more sick. how are you feeling?”

- he curls up deeper under the covers and you get out of bed to kneel next to him

- your hands card through his matted, sweat soaked hair, and you wipe the drops from his jaw

- “do you want a cool shower, baby? you’re soaked.” you suggest, but frankie is so out of it

- he was fine last night, you remember

- sure he didn’t eat dinner, and went to bed early, but you thought maybe he had a late lunch and a long day

- now, helping him out of bed to the shower, you understand that it was early onset symptoms of whatever he was battling

- he pressed heavily to your side and you’re nervous as you strip him down and get him into the tub

- he sways, and you’re not sure what you’ll do if he passes out, or hits his head, so you sit him down, take off the shower head, make sure the water coming out is room temperature, and you run she showerhead over his overheating body

- you’re careful not to get any water in his face and ears, and you don’t wash his hair, just his body with a gentle soap

- you figure this is one of the only times frankie will let you take care of him like this, so you milk it for all it’s worth

- you blow dry his hair on a low setting, just in case he has a headache, you change the sheets of your bed, you lay him down on his side and you bring him close to your chest

- which is how he falls asleep for the next few nights until his illness eventually subsides

WHISKEY

- he curls up in your lap on the couch as soon as he gets home from work, which is how you know something’s wrong

- but you ask him anyway

- “i don’t feel so great, sugar,”

- which scares you, because did he get drugged? is this just a regular illness? is this like a biowarfare mission gone wrong?

- you leave him to get the thermometer, and when you come back, he’s got sad eyes looking up at you that just break your heart

- turns out, it’s not biowarfare. just a fever of 100.4

- you slip your hands up the back of his shirt and it’s so warm, along with his forehead

- he moans weakly at your touch, worn and tired from his extensive mission that day

- he’s definitely been overexerting himself

- as you settle back onto the couch, he settles into your lap again

- you let him rest for a while, but not after long, you realize he’s fallen asleep, and you’re stuck there for god knows how long

- you turn the volume down on the tv just in case, and you stroke behind his ears and you play with his fingers

- it’s best to just let him sleep it off, and you're not opposed to letting him do it on your lap

- you imagine there are statesman resources you can use to help him, but if he’s feeling better after he’s slept it off, then maybe you won’t need to misuse them

JAVIER PEÑA

- you scared the shit out of him, knocking on his door like that

- in your blinding rage, filled with thoughts like “how dare he take the day off to bang hookers, to recover from his hangover, to generally be a hindrance to the fucking DEA,” you had not pondered the possibility that THE javier peña, was sick

- he’s pulling on a t-shirt just as he opens the door, wearing pajama pants, and it startles you to see him so disarmed and casual

- his eyes and nose are red, his hair is disheveled, and he looks... exhausted

- “wow, you look like shit."

- “i feel like shit,” he says, walking away from the door, sniffling

- you take this as an invitation in, and close the door behind you

- he collapses back onto his couch, where you assume he’s been all day, and wraps himself up in a thick afghan blanket

- his hands shake the slightest bit as he opens his lighter to ignite his cigarette

- you take a seat next to him and help him with his lighter, and he nods his thanks to you

- “you’re gonna be late,” he mutters, taking the cigarette from his mouth and blowing out smoke into his apartment, coughing it out halfway

- “i’ll call out,” you offer, eyes wandering up his blanket clad body

- he closes his eyes and lets his head rest on the back of the couch

- “go in. i’m just gonna sleep it off anyway,”

- you lean in close to him and press your hand against his forehead and he freezes, staring at you

- you run your hand down his neck and feel his warmth, and he melts into your touch just a little bit

- you offer to only call out for a few hours to get him settled and make sure he doesn’t die or something, and he lets you, simply because he knows his illness will only get worse

- when your time is up and you have to go back to work, javi’s eaten, gotten some fluids in him, and taken some pain meds

- you let him know that he can call you if he needs anything, and before you even walk out the door is sleeping contently on the couch

MARCUS MORENO

- you find out he’s sick when he calls you, and asks for a favor

- “hey, can you do me the biggest favor ever?”

- he’s super congested. at first you think it might not be him because of how grainy his voice is

- “i hate to do this to you on such short notice, but would you be able to pick up missy? i’m not feeling too hot right now.”

- when you make it back to their home, it's very clear why he thought he wouldn't be able to make it

- he's curled up in bed, tissues piled on his nightstand, trying to get some sleep, but clearly failing

- he notices the two of you come in, and you quietly usher missy away to her own room to entertain herself while her dad tries to get some rest

- he thanks you for picking up missy, and you tell him you'd be there for him whenever he needed you to be

- you make a special phone call as you care for marcus, keeping his curtains closed and running your cool hands up and down his back and shoulders until he felt like he could fall asleep

- you let him know that you'll be right back, that you were going to pick up a few things for him and that if he needed anything at all, just call

- knowing your chicken noodle soup skills were rusty, your special phone call had been to marcus' mother's house, where she had tupperware containers full of soup waiting for you to pick up for him

- when you get back to his house with pain meds, gatorade, and the soup, marcus is passed out in bed

- you don't want to wake him up, but you have a hunch that he hasn't eaten all day, so you whisper his name softly and lightly shake him awake

- he's so grateful and only eats a portion of what he normally does, but anything is better than nothing

- and you don't want him feeling even more sick as a result

- you end up eating the incredibly nostalgic and rich soup with missy at the table and talk to her about your day while marcus gets some sleep

MARCUS PIKE

- it's only when you get home from work that you realize something's wrong with marcus

- he's asleep on the couch

- which would have been fine, if you had worked overtime, or had gotten out late, but it was only four thirty

- plus, you two had planned on going to see a movie you he was excited about tonight in theatres and maybe grab dinner after

- the tv plays lowly in the background, and he hasn’t changed out of his work clothes yet

- he startles when you close and lock the door, and rubs his temples, eyes squeezed shut in pain

- "marcus, are you okay?"

- "yeah, i'm fine." he tells you, and when you mention the date, he looks shocked that he forgot about it

- "oh my god, you're right. i can’t believe i forgot, i’m so sorry babe, i'll get ready right now."

- you tell him it's no biggie, but he insists

- after you've taken off your work clothes and showered quickly for your date, you realize the two of you are most definitely staying in

- he's promptly fallen back asleep on the couch, and he looks adorable

- you put on your pajamas and he does too, and you settle into the couch behind marcus, flipping through channels with him

- he says he doesn't care what you watch, as long as it's not too bright or loud

- so you choose some old black and white movie with the subtitles on

- normally you're the one between his legs, as he rubs your shoulders and plays with your hair

- but this time, he's curled up into you, his back pressed up against your chest, his head tucked into your shoulder using it as a pillow

- you figure you didn't really want to see the new movie anyway, and decide takeout and casablanca was a better way to spend your time with your sick boyfriend

MAX PHILLIPS

- a big baby

- but he IS a vampire and DOES NOT get sick, which slips your mind completely when you come home after some overtime and find him paler than usual on the couch, his head in his hands

- you try to get him to tell you what’s wrong, and he refuses, but he caves when you sit down next to him and start stroking his head, and playing with the hair at the base of his neck

- he tells you that after the whole vampire fiasco with the company, he was set for a while, and has been feeling great, but he hasn’t had human blood in so long that it’s made him weak

- he gives you a sad puppy dog look, and you know he’s being an asshole about it, but you hate to see the dark circles under his eyes or the color his skin turns when he’s like this

- so you oblige, but you give him STRICT instructions to follow, otherwise you won’t do it again

- don’t take more than a pint, don’t leave unnecessary bruises, if you use your safe word he has to stop immediately, and he has to make it as quick and painless as he possibly can

- he nods enthusiastically, and pulls you into his lap

- he nuzzles into your neck, and grabs your chin, anchoring himself to you

- he blows softly on your skin, and presses hard kisses to the area to get your blood flowing and disarm you

- which isn’t fair because he knows your neck is so sensitive

- it’s a sharp prick when he ejects his fangs into your body and you stop moving completely, your hand fisting at his shirt, just listening to your breathing and his soft moans echoed against your skin

- out of habit your rub soothing circles into his back, more to sooth yourself then anything

- minutes pass, and you start to feel light headed and are about to tell him to stop when he pulls away, grinning ear to ear at you

- he’s back on your neck in seconds though, licking and sucking the leaking blood from the small holes he’s left in your skin

- now that, that feels much better than the bloodsucking that was going on originally

- you jump when he presses soft kisses to the sensitive area along your throat and dives a hand between your legs

- looks like someone’s feeling better already

MAX LORD

- tries to power through it as much as he can with pain killers and cough syrups, but after he almost passes out at dinner after a week of symptoms, you beg him to take at least a day off to recover

- that morning, his hair is a mess, he missed a button on his shirt, and his tie was uneven

- he was about to put on two different colored socks when he begrudgingly obliges

- you unbutton his shirt and help him take off his tie

- it’s easy to bring him back to bed after that, and you let him hold you from behind like a teddy bear, no matter how uncomfortable his arm is shoved under your neck

- usually he likes to be held, but he can feel his own back burning up, so he decides to hold you instead

- he whimpers in his sleep, plagued by fever dreams and his traumatic past

- so when he wakes you up in the middle of the night, something he so very rarely does, you’re concerned

- “i’m sorry, for waking you, i just... i just need... you... i want—“

- it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out he needs a hug

- you hold him and rub his back until he falls back asleep again, in your arms

- when he wakes up with a killer headache, you fight to keep him in bed again, rubbing his temples and pressing kisses to his forehead

- he falls back asleep in less than five minutes

- needless to say, one more day off couldn’t hurt

OBERYN MARTELL

- it’s not often than he gets sick, surprisingly, considering how close he gets to so many different people

- when you arrive at his chambers that morning, the guards seem keen on not letting you in

- you argue with them, but they insist oberyn didn’t want anyone in there

- you call them out, obviously upset and visibly frustrated when his doors creak open and you see him, in a robe, hair messy and pressed down to his forehead

- he quietly tells the guard to let you in, and you’re a little confused

- he sits down on his bed and looks up at you with guilty eyes

- “apologies, my love, but I don't want you to see me like this”

- you scoff and roll your eyes at him, moving in front of him

- you take his head in your hands, and he stares up at you

- “apology accepted, but i’m offended, my prince.”

- he scrunches his eyebrows and presses his chin to your stomach

- you run your hands through his hair and he brings his hands to your waist

- “you think mere illness could keep me away? keep me away from you?”

- his confusion melts into a small smile, and he lets his head rest against your belly as you pull him into you

- “can i get you anything, oberyn? wine, medicine?”

- “no, my love. just you is enough for me.”

PERO TOVAR

- wants to be left alone for the most part

- grumpy in general, and it doesn't get better when he's sick

- he'll let you wipe a cool cloth over his forehead and neck, and doesn't complain

- he says he doesn’t want you there because he doesn’t want you to catch what he has

- you know, survival rates are low for things like this at this point in history

- but really, like oberyn, he doesn’t want you to see him weak

- he’s afraid it’ll ruin your image of him in your mind

- william asks you to get some rest, as they can’t afford to risk more days at the campsite with sick travelers

- so you oblige, keeping your distance from pero, but you stay vigilant

- you stand guard for him for most of the night, listening to him breathe, watching his chest rise and fall, until you eventually fall asleep too

- but you’re up early, with the rest of the men, except pero, who sleeps well into daylight

- the rest of them take off, desperate to find something for dinner, but you stay back with him, stroking his forehead, a gentleness that’s rarely ever been afforded to him, listening to him ramble half in english, half in spanish, but he has your full attention

- it would be a rough few days until he recovered, but his muttered thanks and appreciation for you was more than enough for you to do it all over again if he ever needed you to

sex headcanons

note — NSFW. whelp. if anyone wanted proof of me being clinically insane, this is what you could show them. not only has all of my free time been devoted to watching anything with pedro pascal in it, this is also what i think about while watching these anythings. i know there are people out there who have loved him for longer and are even more obsessed than i, so i figured i would share my personal headcanons for the PPCU (pedro pascal cinematic universe, duh). big love for any fans of pedrito - nat

MANDO

- VIRGIN with a capital V

- did you see how he reacted when grogu touched his face? this man has not been touched since he was a child

- he grew up with the mandalorians but he was exposed to suggestive behaviors because, helloooo, bounty hunter

- you have to coax him into it, but it doesn't take much, since he plans on keeping you around long term

- plus, you're so good with the kid

- you provide him a safe space to explore both himself and also your body and he has no idea how lucky he is for it

- doesn't make very much noise, but loves to listen to you

- he won't last long, he’s so sensitive from years of going untouched, but this man's recovery time???

- unparalleled

- he also has the dick of a space porn star and doesn't know it

- but seriously, rice purity score is NOT lower than 90, and most of the boxes he checks are "running-from-the-police" related

- he really wants to be held and have someone run their hands through his hair and kiss his neck and hold his hands is that too much to ask???

EZRA

- his words are where he gets you

- who knew dirty talk could sound so elegant??? and poetic??

- what a tease he is, too

- he pants so heavily right in your ear holy sweet lord

- and loves to laugh during sex

- he doesn't take himself super seriously unless he gets super into it, which has been known to happen from time to time

- safe words have been used between you two, which there's no shame in, but he's so good to you afterward

- he loves aftercare, and being gentle and sweet after a rough session

- asks you what you want and makes you beg for it

- makes you feel like you're in control but really, he's the one in control

- will make you cum before he does

- kinky kinky boy, almost always willing to try what you want him to

- loves to pin you down, but after he loses his arm it becomes a bit harder, so he settles for holding you flush against his chest as you squirm in his strong grip

FRANKIE

- a little soft spoken, but will whisper in your ear in public because he knows it gets you riled up

- will stare you down from across the room with bedroom eyes

- he's got that pilot's precision if you know what i mean aha

- he's honest with you about what he likes and has no qualms about telling you up front

- gives off switch energy, but you're gonna have to really make it worth his while if you want to fuck him

- a very gentle touch, which he would love to be reciprocated

- he aches from years in the service, his back, his knees, his shoulders

- would probably drop dead if you gave him a massage as foreplay

WHISKEY

- what an arrogant piece of shit

- "gorgeous, darlin', sweetheart, sugar"

- he will butter you up like a roll on thanksgiving goddamn

- so straightforward, and very up in your face, but it got you to sleep with him the first time you met him, so you can't say it doesn't work

- not the best with his fingers, but dear lord that tongue does wonders when he's not talking

- is a man on a mission to please you

- will spend an absurd amount of time between your thighs, and loves to feel you try to push him away when you get oversensitive

- loves it when you get feisty

- pull his hair, bite down a little harder than usual, push him down onto the bed or forcefully unbuckle his pants and this man will be putty in your hands

- is SO LOUD, and expects the same from you

- doesn't understand that because you're not screaming to the heavens doesn't mean he's doing a bad job

- associates volume with pleasure which isn't always the case

- that's something you'll have to work on with him, but he's a patient man

JAVIER PEÑA

- keeps condoms and lube on hand at almost all times

- ohhhh boy is this man willing to go at it wherever, whenever, you name it

- will fuck you until he sweats, and keeps going afterward

- and will definitely do you right

- he fucks to feel in control, so good luck trying to take control with this one

- almost tries to distance himself from you at first, but really it scares him that he cares so much

- there's just something about orgasming at the same time as you that just makes his whole week, and your hole weak (ahaha)

- likes to fuck you from behind and fuck you roughly, hands both occupied at the same time, mouth on you, and dick inside you

- very hands on, but can be sweet afterward

- this man kisses like no other you've ever kissed before, he leaves you breathless

MARCUS MORENO

- leads by example wink wink

- will show you what he wants done to him, and is pretty vanilla, but in a good way

- is big on foreplay and also aftercare, probably one of the sweeter ones on the list

- he's almost methodical in his sex, very routine, but willing to deviate for you

- gentle, but deep, languid strokes

- thinks he's quieter than he actually is

- always has a lot on his mind, so he really appreciates it when you can ease some of his tension

- secretly was really experimental in college

- very attentive to your needs and likes to tease

- morning sex is his thing. when he gets home from a long day, he wants to eat and relax and sleep. but in the morning? before anyone is up and before breakfast is even being considered, he likes to wake you up with sweet bruises and roaming hands

MARCUS PIKE

- marcus is the type of man to respect your boundaries fully, keep copies of toys he knows you like at his house, and surprise you at work with flowers and a dirty quickie in the bathroom because you've wanted to try it so badly

- a more traditional way of thinking on sex, and semi-reluctant to do anything involving his ass, but will try it for you if you really want him to

- a very quick learner, this one, and incredibly intuitive

- what he lacks in skill he makes up for in enthusiasm

- it's almost like he can read your mind, when he uses just the right amount of pressure and uses just the right motion to make you cum for him

- you have no idea how anyone could give this up, let alone break his heart

- his favorite thing is having you ride him, your face buried in his neck as you grind your hips down as he whispers praise in your ear

- marcus isn't super kinky, but i'm sure you can convince him to try something new every once in a while

MAX PHILLIPS

- OFFICE. DESK. SEX.

- "a private word with you in my office, please."

- so very seductive. the hand on the small of your back gets you going and he knows it, but he'll have to be more subtle if he wants to keep you

- another one who will butter you up to get you to sleep with him. he's very obvious about it, so it may or may not work first time. regardless he's up for a challenge

- pays so much attention to your neck. you will have to invest in many turtlenecks if you want to be with max

- big on eye contact, except for the exception of fucking you senseless over his desk

- obviously, a vampire, so he's absolutely magic between your thighs

- is very personable with everyone else, mainly because he's a business major, but he LOVES to make you jealous, this man LIVES off of it

- will one hundred percent expect you to be putty in his arms immediately, and treats it as a competition if you aren't

- he WILL take it personally and will make it a personal goal of his to get you to like him and want to fuck him without using his powers

- a game of cat and mouse

- does not care at all about being loud in the workplace, but he likes to see you struggle to keep quiet, even if everyone else can hear you anyway

MAXWELL LORD

- has suCH a praise kink wow

- his favorite thing is to hear you moan and tell him he’s doing a good job

- a little more vanilla than his counterparts but does like to take control and be a little rough

- a switch sometimes, falls into ruts where he just wants someone to take care of him

- but he WILL NOT ASK FOR IT. his pride won't let him

- at first, he’s not as mindful of you as you’d like him to be

- his sex is fast and unpleasant with hands everywhere and mouths and teeth and touch

- so you sit him down, and show him what you like. very slow and sensual

- you take your time with him, and he eventually starts to do the same with you

OBERYN MARTELL

- remember din's rice purity score? yeah, oberyn's is maybe ten. which is pushing it

- when you meet him, he knows what he likes, and is very particular about it

- he's done his fair share of experimenting, but he's willing to try new things, if there's anything new to be tried

- takes control inside and outside the bedroom

- not afraid to show you your place

- he's the kinky one in the relationship, and he will let you explore his body all you want

- if he doesn't like it he will kindly redirect you, his hands on yours, stroking and tugging and redirecting pressure and placement so that you learn his body in and out

- loves to watch you with his girls and boys. what an exhibitionist this man is

- for most people, they have to choose between quantity or quality in their sex lives. oberyn martell is not most people

- he is a prince, and will not let you forget it, but likes it when you talk back and he has to punish you

PERO TOVAR

- the roughest one on the list, but not the kinkiest

- sex to him when he's at his worst is just a way for him to feel good and relieve stress

- when he's at his best, it's a way for him to make you scream his name

- very possessive about what's his, and if he has to show it in front of everyone else for them to know that he will do it

- this man fucks like a rabbit. how does he find the time??? nobody knows

- his libido is so high. you have no idea how he isn't absolutely spent at the end of a long day of fighting and training and wandering, but he'll fuck you where you lay if you let him and you're too tired to move

- once you accidentally walked in on him stroking himself, and the AUDACITY OF HIM

- he smirked, groaned, and asked you to help him out

- who could resist a man like that

Pedro Pascal Characters

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The Mandalorian

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Ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa presents:

All you’ve ever known is the loneliness and brutality that comes with spending your days on Casterly Rock in a family that is feared throughout the seven kingdoms. But what happens when an unlikely pair of lovers narrow their eyes on you and show you that an open heart is more important than the iron throne and love runs deeper than blood?

Pairing: Oberyn x Ellaria x Lannister!Reader Current WIP Word Count: 50,773 Rating: NC-17 / R - (Chapters with ** have smut/sex) typical canon violence, blood, sex, orgies, polyamory, death, torture, betrayal, etc. etc. 

Part One: Snakes Cannot Fly Part Two: A Proposition Part Three: Less Part Four: Breathe** Part Five: …Don’t** Part Six: Conquest Part Seven: River Part Eight: Young God** Part Nine: You Should See Me In a Crown Part Ten: Start a War Part Eleven: Dorne** Part Twelve: Hunger** Part Thirteen: A Dornish Lady** 

More to come…

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@otherthingsinhead

From Marriage to Love -> reader is the youngest sister of Cersei. Tywin decides to marry her to Oberyn to have an alliance.

@forever-rogue

In Name Only -> Reader, the only daughter of late Lord and Lady Beesbury, is sent off to be married to Prince Oberyn Martell. After having been parted from her first love by her horrid mother, she refuses to marry a man she does not know or love and be pushed into a life of misery. But after threat of being cut off from everything she knew and loved, she finds herself leaving her home in Honeyholt and arriving in Sunspear, married to the Prince. Being the charming and kind Prince he is, Oberyn promises her that it does not have to be a true marriage, it can be a marriage in name only. Little does the newly anointed Lady Martell know, that being married to the Prince is so much more than she bargained for.

@ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa

Footprints in the Sand -> All you’ve ever known is the loneliness and brutality that comes with spending your days on Casterly Rock in a family that is feared throughout the seven kingdoms. But what happens when an unlikely pair of lovers narrow their eyes on you and show you that an open heart is more important than the iron throne and love runs deeper than blood?

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Isthereanypossibilityofdoingaslightspankingficforoneofpedroscharactersplease?

***Sooooooo this turned into something waaaaaayyyy different than I had originally planned. I literally thought of this in my sleep last night.

Punishment

The rumors that The Red Viper had taken a wife had swirled around King’s Landing, disbelief being met with every retelling. The man was known as free love advocate. Traveled with his paramour and openly acknowledged the eight bastard daughters birthed to him with no recourse from his family. King Baratheon and his wife Cersei, dismissed the rumors as idle gossip.

Until that day when the ship that bore the glad of a red sun pierced by a golden spear docked, and Prince Oberyn lead his lady wife, Y/N Mormont, down the gangway of the ship.

“By the Gods, he did marry.” Robert Baratheon gawked as the Dornishman tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow and sauntered over to the greeting party.

The golden haired queen seethed at the beauty as they drew closer. “Probably just another one of his whores. Trying to gain favor with Dorne of all places.” She spat.

“Woman, you will hold that cursed tongue of yours.” Robert growled as he stepped forward, the thunderous look on his face fading away as he greeted the second son of House Martell with enthusiasm.

“Oberyn! I see the news of your marriage has not been mistaken. And to such a pretty lass.” He boomed, his hulking frame shaking as he came forward to embrace the Prince, clapping him on the back.

Turning to Y/N the King’s eyes flittered over her with hunger. “At one time, her father wanted me to marry her you know?” He held her hand while she curtsied and brought it to his hips for a kiss. “But Tywin convinced me that Cersei was to be the next Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Had the resources for the burgeoning army I led.”

Y/N Mormont was breathtakingly beautiful. Rich black hair tumbled down her back in loose curls. The emerald green eyes a shocking contrast. While on Bear Island, she had skin the color of fresh milk, pale and white. The sun and sand of Dorne had been good to her, making her skin honeyed and giving her a more exotic look that made the display of skin from her light dress even more tantalizing.

Cersei flushed as she gritted her teeth in anger. The insults her husband doled out just adding to the mocking smile the Prince shot her.

“Yes, well the Lannister’s always believe their golden lions made them better than everyone else.” The smooth accented voice was deadly like the spear he wielded in battle. “But gold is a cold and ridged spouse.”

Y/N’s eyes flashed in amusement as the King laughed at the veiled insult. The red mottled face of the Queen let her know that the devious woman would be seeking some sort of punishment for her perceived embarrassment.

****

Dinner was an affair that was quickly spiraling out of control. The King and Queen were very generous in the numerous cups of wine they imbibed. The sharp tongue of the woman growing more bold with every cup poured.

Y/N watched as she leaned back in her chair, newest drink her her hand as the barbs rolled off her tongue.

“Is House Mormont so destitute that you needed to trade yourself to Dorne?” She slurred slightly, her eyes narrowed in wicked glee.

Oberyn’s hand was on her knee, gently stroking the inside with his thumb. While they had retired to their rooms to freshen up, they had both agreed that Cersei would try to ignite their anger. But she didn’t understand, could never understand the bond that had formed between the pair.

“My family house is in good hands with Lady Lyanna leading it. I felt after the betrayal of my brother, my cousin would be better trusted by the throne. So it left me free to pursue other interests.” Y/N said as she picked out a plump grape from the bowl on the table before them and turned to slip it between her husband’s lips.

Cersei sneered, her lip curling viciously as she spat. “Orgies?”

Emerald green eyes snapped over to the blonde. Fire flashed in her eyes as she ignored the silent warning Oberyn gave her. Y/N was less skilled in veiling her insults, more blunt than a princess should be.

“Love. Something you would know little of. Perhaps if you did, your bed wouldn’t be cold.” Y/N shot back, aiming directly for the chink in the Queen’s armor. Everyone knew of the hushed rumors. The King having spent far more time with tavern wenches and whores than in Cersei’s bed.

Silence fell over the room as Y/N cursed herself inside. As much as she knew that Oberyn has enjoyed her barb, she had overstepped. Publicly insulting the Queen in such as brash manner had been reckless. People had lost their heads for less.

Blazing eyes turned towards the King, who sat with his mouth slightly open in surprise. “You will allow your wife, your Queen, to be treated so?” She ground out scathingly. “How far we have fallen. Soon enough there will be insults by every subject in the kingdom.”

Oberyn tensed next to Y/N. He knew what game she was playing. Even if they had not love for one another, Cersei could manipulate the vanity of the king exceedingly well. His reputation for being a leader was now being calling into question by a returned volley on an insult that had first been lobbed at his wife.

“Robert, if I may?” He interjected with an idle wave of his hand, trying to signify the menial impact of the situation. “In Dorne, we have very effective methods for dealing with a, shall we say, bratty wife.”

Dark eyes raked over her, Y/N lowering her head to stare at the hands folded in her lap. Looking for all appearances, a meek and submissive wife. Even as she chewed the inside of her lip to keep from smirking as Oberyn’s deft fingers inched higher under her dress.

A raucous laugh rang through the dining hall. “By the Gods, that’s what they are, aren’t they? Bratty wives. If they were our soldiers, we could just beat the hell out of them.” Robert thumped his hand down on the table with a loud belch. “But the Maesters say that it’s a bad example to set for the Kingdom, even if it would provide some peace from the harping.”

The dark haired prince joined in his laughter, his fingers rubbing circles on the inside of his wife’s thigh. A comfort and a message that he was playing his part. He despised everything about the ways of the North, from the way they treated people under their protection to the prudish ways they felt about love.

“What is this method you use?” Robert asked, reaching for his cup again.

He leaned back and pierced the King with a mild look. “If they wish to act like children, then our wives are treated as such. A spanking to remind them of their place in the world.” He casually threw out.

Only Y/N knew of the rigidity of his fingers, digging into the soft flesh of her skin. They were there to ease the tensions between Sunspear and King’s Landing. Robert’s reaction to Oberyn’s veiled suggestion would be the deciding factor on if those tensions increased. For she knew that The Red Viper would let no man touch what he considered his. And Y/N was most certainly his most prized possession in that regard.

The king sputtered for a moment before braying loudly. “PERFECT!” He shouted. “It’s settled. Y/N will receive her punishment and we will forget this ever-“

“Publicly.” Cersei called out, malicious glint in her eyes.

“Woman” Robert growled lowly, a warning.

Oberyn held up a hand. “But of course. After all, public humiliation requires a public punishment.”

He looked to the king, who rocked his jaw for a moment before nodding, signaling he agreed. It would shut the harpy up, and he could keep the thin shreds of his temper in check.

Y/N made a show of blushing as he pushed back his chair. The normal severe countenance of his face made the Queen believe that he was furious with his wife, but Y/N could see the humor dancing in his dark orbs. This wasn’t something that was unfamiliar to them. She acted reluctant as she dropped herself over the expanse of his thighs, feeling his arm brace across her back for stability.

The thin material of her gauzy dress slid up the back of her thighs, uncovering the swell of her rounded cheeks. Cersei scoffed at the fact that Lady Martell was bare under her dress, while her husband grunted in a reluctant amusement.

Rough hands, so familiar on her skin caressed the rounded flesh. She felt the quick squeeze, the playful grope before his stern voice rang out. “Count them out.”

A sharp crack was heard throughout the room as his palm came down against her ass.

“One!” Her surprised cry was loud.

The second blow was delivered to the opposite cheek, just as much force as the first strike. Y/N jolted on her husband’s lap.

“Two!” She sounded breathless, pained.

Strike after strike was reigned down on her sensitive skin. Her ass cheeks growing rosey and imprinted with the fingermarks of Oberyn’s large hands. Her cries made them think that she was enduring a horrible punishment, bit out with groans.

“Ten!” She whimpered.

Oberyn’s hand rested on the warm skin, while he looked to the king. Cersei was wide eyed as she saw Robert nodding in approval, a dark scowl crossing her face before she hid it behind her wine goblet.

Y/N squirmed a bit on his lap, looking uncomfortable but seeking the single finger that had slithered between her thighs to test the slickness that had grown there. She could feel his cock pulse against her stomach as the finger curled into the warmth.

Robert braced his hands on the table. “She will think twice before insulting her betters again.” He commented.

Y/N’s jaw clenched but she didn’t look up.

Her husband drew the layers of her skirts back over her ass before answering. “You are well aware of how fair ladies can be. I regret to say that we should retire so that Y/N can recover.” The lie rolled smoothly off his tongue.

Waving his hand, the King dismissed them. “Yes, I’m sure she would have trouble sitting that red little ass on the most comfortable of cushions right now.”

They stood swiftly and exited the hall. Y/N bolting for the hallway that lead to their chambers. Oberyn caught her hand to drag her back to him, pushing her up against the pillar, his mouth raking over hers lustfully.

“When we get back to our chamber, I’m going to fuck that wet cunt until Robert believes that spanking made you walk with a limp tomorrow.” He growled, biting at her lower lips harshly.

Y/N groaned as she reached between them to cup her husband’s cock. “Then hurry up so you can really punish me.”

“More like reward you for so wickedly insulting that bitch.”

She giggled as the Prince of Dorne grabbed her hand and sprinted down the hallway of the castle, bound for their chambers and a lustful night. She was already dripping wet from his spanking and now craved his cock.

MasterList

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From Marriage To Love

Chapter 1: Lion Slap

Chapter 2: Viper Venom

Chapter 3: Cuts and Wounds

Chapter 4: Game of Hearts

Chapter 5: Wise Choice of Weapons

Chapter 6: Puppet Masters

Pairing: Reader x Oberyn Martell

Warnings: none

Words: 1479

Request: Anonymous Can you write a story where reader is the youngest sister of Cersei. Tywin decides to marry her to Oberyn to have an alliance. Cersei is very protective and stays close to her sister all the time.Oberyn and reader meet each other at the gardens and instantly fall in love with one another. They get married a few weeks after and Oberyn claims reader as his own(SMUT) and few months later they start a family. Oberyn always flirts with reader even in front of the children (FLUFF) and they live happily.

You wished you could sink them with your gaze as you watched the Dornish ships slowly sliding into the bay. 

You were Tywin Lannister’s daughter and even though you’ve been born from his second marriage he loved you just as much as he loved all of his children. Well, except one of course. But with this, with this decision, he ruined your life for good. The Martells have their reasons for their hatred towards your house yet, your father was ready to throw you into the snakepit.

“It’s gonna be ok, sweetheart.” Cersei consolated you as she stepped behind you at the window, sipping her wine and throwing a scornful glance to the bay before lingering her softest one upon your face.

“It’s not as bad as you think.” She cooed, racking a gentle finger throw your hair. Albeit you were all different, she was your best friend, your sister. She was the single most caring person in your life.

“Myrcella loves being there.”

“I should run away. Left King’s Landing and hide somewhere. You could help me, Cersei. Would you?”

“Don’t be silly.” She said putting down her goblet and frame your wet cheeks with her hands. She was always so confident, unlike you. 

“I’ll make sure you’ll be in good hands, I promise.” Her steady voice stilled your heart and provoked a little smile onto your lips. Because when Cersei promised something she would make it come true.

Keep reading

In Name Only - Part 1

A/N: Ughhh, hi! I’m a whore for Oberyn Martell and cannot be stopped. This is gonna be a little series, only a few parts (at least for now), and I hope you enjoy. This was one of my many shower ideas that I couldn’t let go!  As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know! xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: slight langauge

MASTERLIST

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“I will not marry a man that does not love me,” you cursed the gods for making you a woman. You cursed your mother for being the way she was though it was not her fault that you were her only daughter among six sons. You cursed the laws of men that determined your position in life, “I will not be tied down to man who does not care about me, to a castle that will never be a home, and bear children I do not want.”

“You are an insolent, silly girl,” she hissed at you, and for a moment you feared that she might reached and strike you across the face. She had been prone to doing so when you were younger, but in her older years she had calmed down, softening with the birth of each child after you, each son, each brother you loathed for how easy their lives were, “you should have been married many moons ago.”

“I will not marry a man almost twice my age that openly keeps a lover and already has plenty of children,” a fiery rage set through your bones, one that would probably be perfectly suited in the warm, desert homeland of the husband she insisted you take. In the Reach, your attitude was abhorred, and you were considered the lone deviant of your family, “I will not give up my freedoms because you deem it fit for me to do so.”

“You will marry him and bear him an heir,” she grabbed your hair and roughly yanked it and leaned in so only you could hear, “you are lucky any man will have you. You’re much too old to be unwed and your demeanor makes you almost unbearable.”

“I will not do it,” you gritted your teeth and tried to pull out of grasp, “I will not subject myself to a life of servitude-”

“When I was your age I’d already been long married to your father and had you and two of your brothers,” she reminded, pushing you away with a heavy sigh, “do you think I wanted to get married? I was no more than a child, and you at least are a woman grown. I could have married you off years ago, as I should have. You would have been out of my sight and perhaps tamed.”

“I refuse. I will not bend and break to your whim,” turning away you started to storm off, hoping that some fresh air would calm you down. Perhaps you could ride your horse through the open pastures and fields surrounding the castle.

“And just what do you plan on doing then? Will you wander through the kingdoms on your own, travelling without anything or anyone like a heathen?”

“Perhaps I will,” you shrugged, “it would be better than doing what you ask of me. If you loved me-”

“If you do not marry him, you will be cut off from this family,” her words were enough to cause you turn around and listen to her, “you will lose your name, your worldly possessions, and you will be penniless. Is that really what you desire?”

“All of this because I do not want to take a husband?”

“It is your duty. As it has been the duty of every woman before you.”

“Fuck duty!” your voiced reverberated around the castle’s stone walls as she stared you down, “I will not marry someone I do not love. Father would never make me do so.”

“And your father is dead,” she reminded you with venom lacing her tone, “and what do you even know about love? It is a fiction created to keep little girls happy.”

“I loved him,” your heart felt like it was being ripped out of your chest as you thought of him. Your mother scoffed and dramatically rolled her eyes at you, “I loved him and you sent him away to certain death because you are a monster.”

“That horrid boy? He was a bastard,” she reminded you of the cruel little thing that kept you apart. How you rued the term of bastard; it did not mean anything, it did not determine a person’s character or heart, “he was never good enough for you. And you defiled yourself for him.”

“Because I loved him!” you insisted, “and he loved me! We would have been happy together, we could have built a life together…”

“He was a peasant, he tended stables-”

“That does not matter to me,” you reminded her, “he was kind and gentle and warm. I would have loved to have a life of tending stables if meant I was with him. Because I loved him!”

“You were lost in your girlhood fantasies of what you think love is,” she was cruel, each of her words twisting like a knife in your gut, “he was the first boy to show you attention and you fell for his little trap, and it has left you ruined for other men. You are lucky that Oberyn Martell does not know and he will not care, the one benefit of having a Dornish heathen for a husband.”

“I did love him, mother,” you tried hard to fight off the flood of tears that were pricked the back of your eyes, “and just because you can’t handle that you sent him to the Wall where he will live out his days and die. I never even got to say goodbye.”

“He was a bastard, it did not matter.”

“He was a good man,” your voice broke slightly as you tried to square your shoulders and stare her down, “his only fault in life was loving me. It’s gotten him the most cruel of fates.”

“I have had enough of you,” she steeled herself and strode past you, regal and noble in appearance as ever, “in two weeks time you will travel to Dorne and you will marry Oberyn Martell. You will either oblige and do it, as is your duty or you be expelled from this castle and can live out your days among the bastards that you love so much. It is your choice, whether you bring shame to this family or you disappear into the background as a woman should and become a dutiful wife.”

“Those are both horrible, vile options.”

“That is duty of being born a woman.”

Keep reading

Insatiable - Chapter One: Let Me Taste You

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: flirting, kissing, use of aphrodisiacs, dirty talk, semi-public groping/dry humping, fingering, oral (f receiving), mentions of an age gap (reader is 21), mentions of bisexuality.

Summary: Known for your incredible intellect, you’re invited to Dorne to meet the royal family as one of their honored guests. You meet Prince Oberyn, who’s interest in you is immediate and evident. You return his affections throughout the night as the family invites guests for a lively gathering. When you return from the bathroom, Oberyn heightens your flirtatious interactions as he meets you in the empty hallway on your way back to the ballroom.

A/N: oh lord I loved writing this, I can already tell this series will be a handful LOL. This was longer than I originally intended, but oh well, I am SO proud of it! Our promiscuous prince is an absolute sun god that can take me ANY day of the week. Hope y’all enjoy <3

Series Details:

- This series will loosely follow the outline of the show Game of Thrones, but you don’t need to be familiar with the show to understand what’s going on.

- Since Oberyn is known to be a salve for the sexy times, there will definitely be smut in every chapter.

- We are also beginning in a timeline that currently does not involve Ellaria. It’s not that I don’t absolutely love her (I totally do) I’m just more into monogamous relationships personally, so that’s where I’m gonna start. But who knows where this series will go.

- ANYWAYS, without further ado, our gorgeous Prince of Dorne and his overwhelming desire for the reader begins below.

Dorne was a land you’d never seen before but heard many stories of. Its infamous water gardens and tropical temperature was foreign to you, though not undesirable. In fact, the trip seemed comparable to a miniature vacation. Your presence was requested by the Lord of Dorne. After hearing of your intellect and travels, he wanted to meet you for himself. Many did, after all. When you became of age, your father flaunted you about, dragging you throughout the Seven Kingdoms in order to earn wealth and infamy. It wasn’t that you didn’t like it, you rather enjoyed being the center of attention, but the trips were long and tedious, and you yearned for a break from your busy life.

“I’ve heard stories of the prince of Dorne.” Your best friend tittered girlishly as she helped you pack.

“Have you now?” you smirked, pulling out another suitcase. The carriage would be here in the morning for your two-day trek. The Lord even sent one of their own; how charming.

“Oh yes, he’s very handsome.” She continued, gossiping as she helped fold your dresses. “And rather promiscuous.”

“And who are you hearing this from, Anya?” you question, humor in your voice.

Anya was two years younger than you, and still in school. She was actually due to be sent away to the Citadel to further her studies while you were gone. However, no matter how talented she may be when it came to her education, she always lacked a bit in maturity, diving into rumors and drama whenever she could.

“Everyone!” she squealed, excited for you and your new adventure. “I hear he fancies both women and men.” She whispers to you.

“It’s not that uncommon.” You glanced back at her, knowing she’s aware of your own sexual orientation.

“I know, but… I’ve just never met anyone else like that!” You grimaced at this. She could be so strange sometimes.

“Promise me you’ll write!” she requests, closing your suitcase.

“Of course,” you turn, reassuring her.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I know, I’ll miss you too. But don’t worry, the Citadel is a marvelous place. You’ll have a great time with your studies.”

Anya nodded, staring back at you before embracing you in a tight hug. She’d never been to Dorne, either. If you could, you’d take her with you, and if you’re being honest, you’re a little nervous for your own travels. This would be there first time you were visiting a new place on your own. After your twenty-first birthday, your father opted out of these journeys. He claimed that you’re grown enough to handle this on your own now, and you are. It’s just new to you, is all.

But that was the other day. Your thoughts have done absolutely nothing to calm your nerves as you continue on toward the foreign land’s palace. Sitting inside the carriage, you scan your wooden surroundings. Your two suitcases sit on the bench across from you, often where your father sat. He was great company on these expeditions, offering conversation and amusement when the treks became long and boring. But now, you had no one. But you can do this, you’re more than capable of doing this. Truly, it’s Anya’s comments that currently fuel your nervousness. You hadn’t been approached sensually by a man in so many years, and of course not while your father visited these places with you. If the prince truly is as flirtatious as Anya claims, you’re in for a treat.

Your thoughts entertain you on and off throughout your journey, along with the books you packed and the drawings you continue to detail. The closer you get to the land filled of flourishing fauna and flowing streams, the hotter the temperature inside the carriage becomes. Your halter dress is ideal for the tropical conditions, allowing much of your skin to breath as the majority of it is exposed. You tie your long hair up into a bun at the nape of your neck. Only a few more hours.

When you finally reach your destination, you’re overwhelmed by the heat radiating from the bright sun. Your home was warm, but nothing compared to this. Glancing out the window, you see the amazing structure of the royal edifice come into view, its large architecture and blooming foliage truly breathtaking. Once stopped, you’re assisted out of the carriage by one of the guards chaperoning your trip. He’d accompanied you on this visit, offering to be your personal aid and security while away from home, which you truly appreciated. While Dorne was a welcoming and friendly place, you’d need a familiar face in order to feel comfortable for your four-week stay. Yes, that’s right. For whole weeks. The Lord planned on inviting many guests to his home, flaunting you as his honored guest. You don’t mind though; a few parties should be fun.

“Thank you, Ambrose.” You smile sweetly, taking his hand as you step down.

A woman descends the palace steps, gracefully striding towards you. She greets you, introducing herself as Milena, one of the royal family’s servants.

“The Lord of Sunspear wishes to see you, promptly.”

“Oh, okay.” You stutter, turning to the carriage behind you. “Should I grab my things first?”

“Oh no,” she laughs, waving a hand as if it was a silly thing for you to ask. “We will have those taken care of for you. Now, if you’ll follow me.” She smiles sweetly, gesturing again with her hand as she silently asks you to follow her inside.

The layout and designs within the building are just as spectacular as those on its exterior. Large, multi-shaped corridors and archways lead you through the palace’s many hallways and open space. Your eyes take in the vivid colors and patterns that surround you; you’ve never seen anything like it. The servant’s pace eventually slows as you reach a particular room, clearly meant for entertaining with its open entrance and sizeable space.

The Lord of Sunspear sits at the far wall, adorning a golden throne sat upon a raised step. His frame is thin, his features dark as his eyes rest upon you. His brown hair is long, but thinning, a receding hairline forming on either side of his temples. Facial hair scatters along his cheeks and jawline, and he wears a robe bright enough in color to match the chair highlighting his royal position. To your left, his Lady sits, bouncing a child on her lap. Off to your right is a lengthy couch, another man half-sprawled out across the lavish fabric. You curtsy, doing your best to be as polite as you are graceful.

The man and woman sitting on the extravagant furniture on either side of you look up, acknowledging your presence. Lady Mellario hands her infant son off to a hand maiden who hurries away with him. The nobleman sitting on his throne nods at your elegant bow, appreciating the sentiment and formality.

“Welcome,” the Lord stands, his harms spread wide.

He walks toward you, reaching out to hold your hands in his. You smile at him, comforted by his gestures.

“We greatly appreciate your visit and are delighted to meet you. Allow me to introduce you to my family.” He leads you over to his wife, his hand on your lower back as he introduces you.

“Lady Mellario,” you grin, nodding to her in a show of respect.

She smiles back, greeting you kindly. You find it strange, though, her quietness. Regardless, you’re turned around to face the other man in the room. He sits up as your eyes meet, standing and walking over to you.

“This is my brother, Prince Oberyn.”

The prince leans down, taking your right hand in his before lifting it and pressing his lips to your knuckles. You stare into his dark eyes, his smirk evident as he greets you.

“Very nice to meet you,” he purrs, his voice low and accent dissimilar to yours.

You smile, sighing lightly at his chivalrous actions and baritone voice. He’s taller than you and has dark features, darker than that of his brother. His jawline is sharp, nearly black facial hair blooming along it and his upper lip. His lean muscle is prominent beneath his yellow robe, exposed by the front opening of his tunic, displaying his smooth, bronzed chest. He seems older than you, much older, in fact. Somehow, this only adds to his attractive charm.

“Well, I would love to entertain, but I must tend to other matters.” The Lord claps his hands his hands eagerly as he speaks, inadvertently pulling you out of the prince’s trance. “You will be shown to your chambers shortly, I advise you prepare yourself for the night’s event. My visitors will be arriving within a few hours. You’ll sit at our table, as Dorne’s honored guest.” The Lord behind you explains, placing his hands on your shoulders.

You turn your head slightly, nodding to him. “Thank you, I’m very excited.”

The same servant that led you inside directs you to where you’ll be staying. You admire your surroundings, the chamber enormous in its entirety. Upon entrance, you notice the large bed off to your left, held up on a higher level than the rest of the room by a large step. The bed is round in shape, decorated with many silk pillows and blankets. Straight ahead is a balcony overlooking part of the water gardens below. To the right sits a work area, a sizeable desk accompanied by a lavish bookcase. In the corner past this is your bathroom. An enormous bath lays in the ground, heated by springs pumped through the palace walls. The entire chamber smells sweetly of flowered perfumes and oils, the freshy cut blossoms sitting in expensive vases also adding to the pleasant aroma.

Your servant leaves quickly, allowing you to bask in the beauty of your surroundings in private. You sit on your luxurious bedspread, holding the smooth fabric of your pillow on your lap and stroking its sheen texture. A breeze flows through the curtains separating the main space from the balcony, the sun’s rays dancing across the marbled ground at your feet. You were right, this trip would not be work, it would be relaxing. Though, Lord Doran did advise you to get ready to entertain, so you decide to do just that.

Your suitcases have been placed next to your desk on the far side of the room, and you open the top one to lay out your dresses, surveying your options. They’re each hand crafted from multiple fabrics, each a different shade and style. You eventually decide on a waist-high even split dress. It’s nude in color and flows smoothly over your body. The dress’ neckline is extremely low cut. The fabric at your waist parts into two sections, one larger and one smaller. The larger portion flows down your backside, while the other covers your front in between your legs. Your skin from your hips down is revealed in its entirety. You’d have to be careful tonight; one wrong move and you’d embarrass yourself for your lack of undergarments. The thinness of the dress won’t allow for anything to be worth beneath it, not elegantly anyway. You were never one to cover up though, especially in the hot sun that hung over Dorne. The attire was quite to your liking. Now within the cool walls of the majestic building, you decide to wear your hair down, fully expressing your beauty. You choose to wear the sandals you came in with, also nude in color as they wrap up your calf.

You’re ready much quicker than you expected. You know you’ll have to wait at least an hour before a servant returns to lead you downstairs and to your seat at the head table, maybe even longer. You scan the room, eyes returning to the last unpacked suitcase. You have time, and it’s only one bag, it should be quick job. Your books are first, and you lean over in order to grab as many as you can. But just as you start to set them onto the bookshelf off to your left, you hear a knock on the door. Your body shoots upright, spinning around just in time to see the large wooden door open slowly. Oberyn’s sudden presence frightens you for a moment, causing you to yelp as you turn. He chuckles, surveying your room as he lets himself in.

“Prince Oberyn,” you blurt out, watching him enter further.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he speaks, turning to shut your door before approaching you. “I wanted to introduce myself again, get the chance to speak with you privately.”

“Is there something wrong?” you ask, your brow furrowing in confusion.

“No,” he smiles, sighing as he looks down at you. “I’d just like to speak with you before our company arrives. That’s all.” He purrs, taking your hand in his again, his thumb stroking your soft skin. You blush at his actions, your gaze faltering as you glance at your feet.

“I want you to know, that when you’re in my palace, you need not address me as prince.” You look up, eyes meeting as he continues. “My title has no purpose coming from your lips.”

His hand leave yours, coming up toward your face, his pointer finger and thumb looking as if they mean to cup your chin. He tuts as his digits barely glide over your skin, deciding against it and lowering his hand. You’re left with a questionable emotion, wishing you’d felt his skin on yours as he backs away from you.

“Were you unpacking?” he questions, raising his eyebrows and gesturing to your books.

“Oh, yes. I figured I had the time.” You shrug, looking over your shoulder at them.

He leans over you, reaching behind you to pick one up, the edge of his robe brushing over your bare shoulder. The prince leans back and flicks through its pages, admiring its detail. This particular book covers a wide expanse of natural poisons among various plants and roots, something the prince studied extensively in his years at the Citadel, reminding you of his infamous title as the Red Viper. He hums as he reads for a moment, then shuts the book and places it back on your desk.

“My brother thinks you are an intelligent woman.” He steps forward, encroaching on your space as his hand flattens against the surface of your sturdy desk.

You cock your head to the side and raise an eyebrow as your confidence returns, assuming his words suggest doubt in your intellect. “And what do you think, Oberyn?” you inquire, trying out his request at the dismissal of his title.

“An intelligent woman, indeed.” He agrees, his voice lowering and nodding his head slightly. He towers above you, peering down into your eyes and tilting his head before asking, “Where did you study? The Citadel?”

You find this humorous, a small laugh escaping past your lips. “The Citadel studies me.” You respond complacently.

“An honor, no doubt.” He smirks, a single finger moving to run over the curve of your cheek. “One I would be delighted to receive.”

The prince’s suggestive remarks elicit a thundering pulse within you, arousal quickly building in your lower stomach. His beauty is palpable, as well as his attraction toward you.

“What do you want to know?” you question, breathing out shakily as he inches closer.

“I want to know what makes you tick, little one.” He mutters, “What makes your cleverness as bright as your beauty?”

The nickname and praise stir something deep in your chest while butterflies erupt in your stomach. Calling you “little one” while standing so tall and robust before you, his age much older than your own, his baritone voice speaking to you so softly, his eyes not once leaving yours… it makes you feel so innocent, submissive… like prey cornered by a hunter.

“Rather flirtatious toward your guests, aren’t we?” you inquire sarcastically, smirking up at him.

He purrs at this, appreciating your wits. “Only with ones as alluring as you.”

At this, you’re speechless. Your breath is caught in your throat and you’re currently out of clever remarks. When he sees your reaction, clearly entranced in his subtle seduction, his smile widens.

“What a beautiful dress,” he grins sweetly in your silence, the back of his hand roaming lightly over the fabric on your stomach as he glances down. His mouth parts slightly, his brow furrowing faintly as he focuses on the outline of your body beneath the thin cloth. His hand wraps around you, palm meeting the skin of your back as he gently places it on your waist. Your heartbeat quickens at his closeness, his curved nose inches from yours.

“Quite a taunting design.” He admits, his eyes shifting to the swell of your breasts. You grin wickedly, reveling in the prince’s full attention.

“As is yours,” you remark, staring at his bronze chest. His robe shifts open even more as he moves, further exposing his toned frame.

“Yes,” he sighs out, the hand on your waist moving up to rest just below the curve of your tits. He leans forward, his lips pressing lightly to your ear as he whispers, “But I could show you more.”

His words send shivers up your spine, your limbs tingling with excitement. It’s been so long since you’ve been with a man that the thought of any sexual act entices you. But with this man? The things you would do to be with this man…

“You said we have time, right little one?” his chest vibrating against you as he hums curiously. You nod, biting your bottom lip lightly. “Why don’t we make use of that?”

He removes the hand placed on the desk, raising it to meet the line of your jaw. He raises his eyebrows as you stare at him, silently wondering if you’ll allow his advancements. You decide to accept, tilting your chin up to meet him. The prince moves slowly, eyes lowering to your magnificent mouth and then closing delicately as his soft, full lips press to yours. His head tilts, nose brushing against your own as he deepens the kiss. You reach up to cup his face, moving your mouth against his in earnest. His facial hair scrapes against the smooth skin of your cheeks as he continues, his wet tongue eventually trailing over your bottom lip. You part your lips for him, allowing his tongue to move between them. An intense pulse floods through your heat as your tongues collide, massaging against each other deliciously. Adrenaline rushes through your veins as you feel the prince’s experienced mouth and tongue for the first time.

Oberyn moans into you, his brow furrowing in concentration as his tongue works itself inside your mouth. The hand on your face lowers to your hip, joining the other and gripping you tightly. You roll your hips toward him in response, allowing yourself to let go just a little bit more. A single hand falls to his chest, your fingers twiddling with the hem of his robes and dancing along his smooth skin.

He moves you over toward your desk before bending down to grab the back of your thighs. He hauls you up, placing you on the sturdy furniture and positioning his hips between your legs, his persistent mouth never leaving yours. His strength and forwardness get the better of you as your slick begins wetting your inner thighs. Your legs close ever so slightly, holding him against you. He continues lapping at your tongue passionately, his hand keeping your jaw open for him as he does so. He leans back, his tongue licking slowly over your lips before speaking.

“I want to taste you, pretty girl.” His voice is strained with desire as he continues, “See if your flavor is as delectable as you are.” He runs a finger over your lips, eyes focusing on the supple flesh before flicking up to meet your gaze.

At first, you’re hesitant, unknowing of how far you’re willing to go. You’ve just met this man, and you’ll be staying in his home for four weeks. What if something goes wrong… You know what? Fuck it. You’re on your own and you want to have fun. You’re an adult, and if things go sideways, you’ll handle it. Like an adult.

“I hope you like what you find,” you breathe out, beaming brightly.

He grins, lowering himself almost immediately. He keels on one knee before you, his large hands easily moving the thin fabric of your dress to the side. When his eyes meet your exposed heat, he moans lustfully. Leaning in, he places a single, gentle kiss onto your mound, and you gasp at the sensation. You rest your left leg up onto the chair sitting in front of your desk, offering him an even better view. But, just as he goes in to taste you, there’s a knock on the door.

Your name is called out by the servant who’s been accompanying you, causing the two of you to jump in surprise. Oberyn looks over his shoulder at the still closed door, your eyes finding the same spot. “Lord Doran is requesting your presence. He’d like you to be seated before his guests arrive.”

Oberyn turns his head back toward you, leaning in to kiss your thigh. He hums against you, the vibrations sending shock waves through your hips. He lifts himself from his lowered position, folding the fabric of your dress back to its intended place.

“I suppose we’ll have to finish this another time, little one.” His voice is soft and seductively low as he speaks, his hand cupping your face while his thumb swipes gently over the apple of your cheek.

The grip your teeth have on your lip nearly spills blood as frustration and arousal mix in your veins. You sigh out, yearning for some kind of release. The whine that comes from your lips is girlish and embarrassing, and it makes him chuckle above you.

“Don’t worry,” he mutters. His lips meet yours once again, kissing you twice before finishing with, “I’ll find you soon enough.”

The servant, Milena, leads you down the multitude of corridors within the palace. It’s almost frightening how large the building is and how many twists and turns seem to be around every corner. You make sure to take note of this, as this is where you’ll be staying for the next month. Eventually, though, you’re led to a large ballroom. Its entryway is enormous, truly magnificent. The walls of the opening are lined with blue and gold trim curving around delicate patterns. The inside walls resemble similar patterns and textures, its lofty ceiling upheld by solid, dark timbers. The far side of the ballroom is missing its wall, though, and is instead supported by large columns. The large spaces between them serve as entryways to the renowned water gardens. At the front of the glorious room is the head table, a seat set aside for each member of the royal family, and yourself, of course.

Your name echoes off of the stone walls as you’re called by the Lord, already strutting over to you. “My guests will be arriving soon, please, come sit.”

He shows you to the lengthy table, gesturing toward your seat. The wooden chair has carvings of the Martell House, the ruling family of Dorne’s, coat of arms: a golden spear piercing a red sun. You sit, admiring the craftsmanship as you place your elbows on its armrests.

“Adequate?” he asks, his tone full of amusement as he doubts you will say otherwise.

“Very.” You reply, smiling up at him.

“Perfect. Now, my visitors are very intrigued by you. They’re a neighboring house to ours, the Tyrells, in fact.”

You’d heard of House Tyrell before, but you’d never had the opportunity to meet them in person. The Lord and Lady have three sons and one daughter and were often accompanied by their grandmother, a Lady as well. You’d heard rumors of their daughter, Margaery, being quite infatuated with your intellect and prestige.

“Ah yes,” you sigh happily, “Lord Mace and Lady Alerie. Will their four children be accompanying them, as well as their grandmother, Lady Olenna?”

Lord Doran smirks at your knowledge of the Seven Kingdoms, nodding his head before speaking. “Indeed. I do hope you will share some of that marvelous intellect with them tonight, as well.”

“I’d be happy to,” you sing, proud to show yourself off.

“Fantastic. Our cooks our preparing supper, do you have a preference?”

On this, you think a bit. Curiosity gets the better of you as your mind wanders to Oberyn. If you’re going to dwell in this man’s company for so many weeks, why not get to know him a little bit?

“I’ll have whatever Prince Oberyn is having.”

Lord Doran tilts his head, raising an eyebrow at you, but chooses to ignore his questing thoughts. “I’ll notify our head chef. Please, remain seated while our visitors arrive.”

Sitting patiently, you twiddle your thumbs and hum excitedly. You’ve been in this exact situation enough times to anticipate how the evening will go. Your hosts will serve you a meal, and likely their guests as well, while holding pleasant conversation. Afterwards, many other, less important newcomers will flood the room as musicians begin to play, and more alcohol is served. That’s when the fun begins.

“Quite punctual, I see.” Prince Oberyn strolls into the room, eyes immediately on you.

“Of course,” you reply, watching him walk over to you. “I don’t want to be rude to my hosts by disobeying orders.”

Soon enough, he’s at your side, and you have to angle your neck upwards in order to meet his gaze. He reaches down, lightly holding your chin between his thumb and forefingers.

“I can only hope you’ll be as obedient for me.” He purrs, smirking when your lips part at his words.

Before you can reply, his eyes flitter up to someone further behind you. You turn as well, seeing the Lord of Sunspear’s Lady sit on the far end of the table, Lord Doran then joining her. Oberyn sighs, pulling out the chair next to you and sitting. You’re feeling rather high and mighty, you must admit. You’re sat between Lord Doran and Prince Oberyn, two very powerful men who are honoring you tonight, and for many more nights to come. Sitting at a royal table wasn’t new to you, but it was always a delight.

Once you’re all situated at the table, the Tyrell family is led in, but not before a smaller table is set up in front of you for them to sit at. Lord Mace and Lady Alerie enter, followed by Lady Olenna and their four children. Each smiling and greeting the royals sitting next to you. They take their seats at the table and Lord Doran welcomes them, introducing you in the process.

“It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you all.” You speak, smiling politely. Surprisingly, Lord Mace scoffs at this.

“All,” he emphasizes, rolling his eyes. “Quite disrespectful for you to not greet my family by name.”

“Oh, I mean no disrespect, Lord Mace.” You reply quickly, not wanting to anger anyone. “To you or Lady Alerie. I have great admiration for your family. The studies your son, Willas, involves himself in are very intriguing to me. Your younger sons, Garlan and Loras’ skill in battle intrigue me, as well. Your daughter, Margaery, is renowned for her kindness and grace, something I admire deeply. I also have great veneration for you, Lady Olenna. A woman as graceful and intelligent as yourself is one who truly inspires me.”

Oberyn’s hand reaches for your thigh, squeezing it tightly as you respond to Lord Tyrell. You turn slightly to look at him, wondering if you’ve done something wrong. A grin pulls on the edges of the prince’s lips, a sign to you that all is well, though one that makes you curious, nonetheless. You continue to speak to the family, addressing them each as you make eye contact and do your best to smile and gesture politely. Lord Mace seems rather satisfied with your response, his attitude quickly changing as he begins to enjoy himself. Amicable conversation begins to fill the room as you’re served the first plates of your dinner, banter now interchanging between each member of the two houses. You even get the chance to speak to the Tyrell’s youngest child, Margaery, who is an absolute delight and clearly admires you and your influence. Once you quite down, Oberyn glances at your meal, a questioning look forming on his face.

“Are you watching me, little one?” he questions, your eyes turning to meet his.

“I prefer to taste a man’s meal before he tastes me.” You purr, smirking as you suck a plump cherry tomato into your mouth. A low grumble releases from his chest, his lips pursing as he chews on his lip, his smirk still very evident.

Prince Oberyn’s choice cuisine is rather appetizing. There’s a fresh, green salad laid on your plate, full of tomatoes, cucumbers, avocados, kalamata olives, and more. This serves as the appetizer, of course. The main entree comes in two plates. One is cold to the touch as oysters sit amongst a sea of ice. The other steams below you, cooked asparagus and marinated chicken spreading to the plate’s brim. Finally, dessert comes, your favorite part. A bowl of berries and cherries is set before you. Another, smaller dish accompanies its side, this one filled with exotic nuts. As you’re enjoying the last addition to your meal, you realize something. The majority of the prince’s preferred foods include aphrodisiacs. Fitting.

Your graceful laughs soon fumble into girlish giggles as you consume your third glass of wine. When he began eating, Oberyn retracted his grip on your thigh, but it returns as you nibble on your delectable dessert. The prince leans over to you, and you ease in, allowing him to bring himself closer to your ear.

“Are you enjoying yourself, pretty girl?” he asks, his large hand sliding to your inner thigh, his touch tickling your sensitive skin.

“Hmm,” you hum giddily, “Yes.” You beam brightly at him as he pulls a few inches away, still close to your face.

“Did you appreciate the food?”

“Yes, I loved it!”

He tilts his head, smiling at your ever-present happiness. “Which was your favorite?”

“The raspberries.”

When you answer, he looks down. With his other hand, he reaches over, plucking a berry from your bowl and lifting it to your lips.

“Let me see you taste it.” He requests, his voice now a whisper. His mouth opens slightly as he focuses on your own. When you open for him, his brown eyes rise to meet yours.

You keep his gaze when you part your lips, allowing him to feed you the plump, pinkish fruit. He smiles, his beautifully straight teeth shining as you taste the sweet juices spilling onto your tongue, his finger just barely sliding past your lips. When he moves to take his finger away, you close your wine-stained lips around it, gently and briefly sucking on it.

The servants begin taking your food away as the two of you continue your flirtatious actions and inquisitive conversations. You bask under the prince’s attention, his eyes trained on you while you laugh at his continuous comments and questions. You’re each fully turned towards each other now, endlessly engaging in the other’s interests. You enjoy the prince’s outward attraction toward your beauty, of course, but you also adore his interest in you, your mind. It comforts you, pulls you in just that much more.

The Tyrell family stands as additional guests begin to arrive, pulling you away from Oberyn’s captivating eyes. The curtains begin lowering in order to the dim the room’s lighting, the day now turning to night on the other side of the large, stone columns. Candles are lit, and musicians begin to enter the room. Carts stroll in, too, offering appetizing sweets and fermented liquids. The people that come in marvel at you, speaking to you in multiple tongues about various topics, such as politics, philosophy, literature, culture, and so much more. You were quite well-versed in the topics and nearly fluent in each language, and easily held steady conversation with Lord Doran’s many guests. Not only were you knowledgeable, but you truly enjoyed talking about the subjects and brushing up on the many dialects the Seven Kingdoms have to offer. More and more visitors come over to greet you, and you decide its best that you stand from the table to start mingling with everyone out on the ballroom floor. Oberyn stays seated, watching you walk off into the crowd.

“Milena?” you ask, pulling the servant to the side after meeting more newcomers. “Where can I find a washroom?”

She points you in the direction of one down the hall, and you eagerly stride towards it. After, what, four goblets of wine now? You definitely need to empty your bladder. There are perfumed oils at the sink, which you apply after washing your hands. You’re able to freshen yourself up a bit, fixing your hair and makeup and making sure the fabric of your dress is laid appropriately. Once satisfied, you leave the room, intent on returning to the event. Suddenly, you squeal, startled by the unexpected presence of strong hands on your waist.

Oberyn presses himself up against you, holding you from behind as he nuzzles his face into the hair flowing over your neck and shoulder. “You are irresistible, pretty girl.”

You blush, smirking while moving to hold the prince’s arms as they wrap around you. You turn your head, sighing out at the feel of his body against yours. He’s so close you can feel his breath on your skin, his lips brushing over your neck lightly.

“You scared me.” You giggle anxiously. The prince moves against you, leading the two of you a few steps to the side, closer to the wall and away from the center of the hallway.

“Are you still frightened?” he asks lowly, one hand reaching up to brush your hair off your shoulder and to your back.

“No,” you mutter, breathless under his influence.

Once you respond, his hands begin to travel. They slowly roam the curves of your body, wrapping around you as his right hand moves to hold the left side of your hip, his left hand shifting up to cup the curve of your chest.

“Do you like what I’m doing?” his voice is hoarse, his lips now moving to press heated kisses against the delicate skin along your neck.

“Yes,” you gasp, his hand now fully massaging your tits while the other grips your hip. You lean into him, letting your head lay back on his shoulder. A small whimper leaves your lips in your hazy state when he rolls his hips against your backside.

“Mm… those little sounds…” he sighs out, “I’d love to hear them while spearing you on my cock.” You gasp at his words as they send a shiver down your spine. You’ve never had a man speak to you so obscenely.

The hallway leading to the ballroom is lined with small columns, one of which is behind you. Oberyn pulls you backwards, leading you to the small space between the stone pillars, allowing the two of you an ounce of privacy. He spins you around, pushing you back against the curved surface so you can face him.

“You’re incredible,” he mumbles, crowding your body in the secluded space as he holds your neck, mouthing hotly at your shoulder. “So shrewd for a woman of your age.”

You grin, loving his praise and his fervent tongue on your neck. The prince’s hips grind against yours, his length patently hard beneath his robes. His hands continue to roam your body, curving over your hips to grab at your ass. Your hands hold him against you, one grabbing his neck while the other tangles itself in his dark, feathery hair. When you tug on the brown locks, he groans, lifting his head from your neck. You press your soft lips to his, and he responds to you quickly, leaning into the kiss as you move against each other. His hand moves between the two of you, cupping your sex in his palm.

He moans at your soft gasp, the interaction heightening the rate of your pulse. He grabs your jaw, breaking the kiss to stare into your eyes. “Will you let me taste you, sweet thing?”

The nook the two of you are tucked into behind the sandstone pillar offers a bit of seclusion, though not as much as an enclosed room would. There isn’t a single soul walking the halls, though the thrill that someone could at any moment excites you beyond reason.

“Yes,” you reply, panting from the euphoria the prince’s sensual actions provoke.

Oberyn chuckles lightly, clearly delighted in your response as he rapidly shifts to kneel before you once again. His tan hands run up your exposed thighs, his nimble fingers shifting the front covering of your dress aside to reveal your smooth mound. His smirk is evident, even from this angle. His left shoulder lowers, and before you can question him, he grabs the back of your knee, maneuvering you so that your one leg is resting over his shoulder and draping down his back. The parting of your legs gives him much better access to your wanting heat, already slick from anticipation.

“Oh…” he moans out, the palm of his hand running over the smooth skin of your sex and lower stomach. “So pretty.”

He leans in, placing a gentle kiss on your mound, just as he did hours before in the privacy of your chambers. His warm, wet tongue then slides up through your folds, slowly, delicately, tasting the juices he’s been craving since laying eyes on you. You gasp out, the sensation beautifully stimulating against your sensitive skin. You reach out to him, grabbing his hair as you steady yourself above him. He smiles against you, happy at your responsiveness and grabbing hold of your hips. The prince’s curved nose rubs against your clit deliciously as he moves his tongue against you, into you, sloppily licking and sucking your folds as his tongue roams your inner channel. The lusty noises his mouth makes while devouring your dripping core are absolutely obscene as they echo off the surrounding walls. His eyes remain closed in contentment and concentration as he moves his hot mouth against you. You watch him intently, his head rocking rhythmically as he tastes you. His tongue slides out of your sex, traveling up to your tiny pleasure point. The wet muscle dances around your clit before rolling over it, applying pressure and sucking it into his mouth.

“Oh –” you sigh out, throwing your head back, “Oberyn…”

He hums at the sound of you moaning his name, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your hips. The pad of his middle finger barely touches the lining of your labia, gently rubbing back and forth before sinking inside you.

“Yes!” you whine, rolling your hip against his face.

His digit is thick as it enters you, almost immediately curling and applying constant pressure to that fleshy spot inside you that makes you want to scream. His ability to find it so quickly makes your head spin, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. He doesn’t even move his finger in and out, he just keeps it there, forcefully pulsating it against your g-spot, wiggling it in a motion that coaxes you forward.

“More,” you whimper, “Please.”

His finger retracts before lining up again, now with his pointer finger alongside it. He shoves them into you, now at a hurried pace as they continue to curl against that beautiful spot every now and then. He keeps his tongue on your clit, flicking it quickly with the tip of his tongue before wrapping his lips around it. His mouth suckles on your pleasure center while he pumps his fingers in and out of your aching pussy. His moans match yours, and you love that he’s enjoying this so thoroughly, possibly even more than you. Your pleasure continues to climb, washing over you until it peaks. His hot, wet mouth feels amazing against your dripping core, and you tighten your leg on his back to push him further against you.

“O-Oberyn,” you stutter, “I’m, I’m gonna –”

“On my face, little one.” He breaths out, panting below you. “Cum on my face.” His lips return to your clit, sucking harshly.

His words push you over the edge, and you bite your lip, unwillingly to whine too loudly in the hallowed halls. His tongue picks up its pace, sucking ruthlessly on your clit while his fingers resume their original motions, stalling inside you and only pulsating pressure against your g-spot, flawlessly riding you through your orgasm. His other hand grips your hip tightly, holding you against him as your high comes crashing into you, forcefully filling your veins with pure ecstasy as you cum against the prince’s face. He continues to mouth at you, his fingers and tongue persistent in their application of pressure on your most responsive areas until you’re shaking above him.

He slows down as your breathing calms, easily reading your body’s signals. He pulls his fingers out of you, his tongue now licking languidly at your folds. He brings his cum-soaked fingers to your fleshy lips, parting you with his pointer and middle finger. He angles his head, moving his mouth directly under your wet channel. With your folds parted, he licks into you, moaning at the taste of your creamy pussy. He slurps as he drinks from you, swallowing the last remnants of the sweet liquid your orgasm brought you. Your mouth parts at the sight, the aftershocks of your orgasm tingling through you as he continues to savor your taste before leaning back and bringing his fingers to his mouth, sucking the liquid off his fingers as his brown eyes stare up at you. The sight of the prince on his knees before you, absolutely savoring you and your juices, is one of the most erotic things you’ve ever seen. It makes you breathless, delirious as you watch him.

The hand on your waist moves underneath your leg, and once he’s licked his fingers clean, he turns his head to kiss along your inner thigh, licking the juices off the sensitive skin there, too. Lust-filled brown eyes meet yours once more while he continues to mouth at your leg as it rests on his broad shoulder. You smile down at him, his mouth and chin now wet with your slick. You gasp out when he sinks his teeth into your flesh, moaning slightly as you try to catch your breath.

“Would you like to share my bed tonight, little one?” Oberyn inquires, his voice husky as his dark eyes stare up at you from between your legs. “Help me to find my release as well?”

“I would love to.” You smirk devilishly, biting your lip as he places one last open-mouthed kiss to your thigh before rising.